


Blind Date

by notjustmom



Series: What if... [13]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blind Date, Gen, Implied firsts, M/M, different first meeting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-03-29 13:01:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 8,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13927638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: What if Sherlock and John get set up on a blind date...





	1. Chapter 1

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Molly looked up from stirring her tea and narrowed her eyes at him. "Of course I'm not sure, but Sherlock has been moping ever since - you know -" she shrugged and took a sip of her tea. "And John - ever since he's been back, you know he needs, I don't know, a distraction?"

"Yeah, it can't hurt, can it? Alright. Tonight, then?"

Molly nodded. "Tonight."

 

"No."

"Sherlock..."

"Molly. Not everyone gets to be as happy as you are." He lowered his safety goggles and turned on the torch again, and tried to return to his experiment. He looked up after a few minutes and growled softly, as he pushed the goggles back into his curls, and turned off the torch again. "You aren't going to leave, are you?"

"No."

Sherlock looked down at her and shook his head. "This will be a disaster."

"It's been a year -"

"One year, two months... but no one is counting. Angelo's, 7 o'clock. If he's five minutes late, I'm gone."

Molly stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. "You won't regret it."

"I already do." Sherlock sighed as he lowered the goggles and turned up the torch once more.

 

"Greg?"

"John. Can I come in?"

John shrugged and walked back over to his desk. Greg followed and closed the door behind him. "Blog?"

"Yeah. My therapist... nothing else has helped, but I don't have a thing to write about. Aren't you late for work?"

"One of the few perks of being the boss, I can be in when I want, within reason."

John nodded and looked over at Greg who had settled on the edge of his bed. "You are here for a reason."

"Yup."

"Well, I do have things to do..."

"Things?"

"You know, send out my CV, get turned down for interviews, or get invited to sit down only to be told, 'we just filled that position, so sorry....' "

"Molly and I have a friend."

"A friend."

"He's an interesting guy, been helping out on crime scenes, he started when you left for Afghanistan -"

"You're trying to set me up on a date?"

"You've been moping around here for months, John. It's time -"

John snorted. "You think you get to tell me when it's time. You, who have a job you love and the best girl in the world, you get to tell me when it's time to get out there again?"

"I'm just trying -"

John closed his eyes. "I know what you're trying to do. I - honestly, Greg, do you think anyone is ever going to want, yes, I know I'm feeling sorry for myself, but, I think it's my decision when I choose to - damn. Really? Puppy eyes? That is patently unfair."

"I know. 7 o'clock, Angelo's. He's kind of an acquired taste, Molly's known him for donkey's years, but most people -"

"I'm not most people."

"I know, that's why I thought you two might hit it off. It'll be fun."

"Fun?"

"At least you'll have something to write about."


	2. Chapter 2

"I have a date tonight."

Mike Stamford put down his coffee and looked at John.

"A date?"

"You don't have to look so surprised."

"No, it's just I didn't think you wanted to -"

"Greg set me up."

"A blind date."

John shrugged. "Yeah."

"Used his 'puppy eyes' on you."

John snorted. "Yeah, he knows I can never say no when he does that."

"So, what are you gonna wear?"

"I don't know, I hadn't really -"

Mike rolled his eyes at him. 

"Okay, I was thinking the oatmeal jumper, it's the best thing I have, and the dark olive green cords?"

Mike nodded and looked at his friend for a long moment. "You're nervous."

"No. Yes. I haven't dated since, I don't even remember the last time -"

"Uni."

"Uni? That long? Really?"

"Yep."

"Damn."

 

"A date!" Mrs. Hudson clapped her hands together and smiled at Sherlock. "What's his name?"

"Not sure. Molly set me up. Hasn't given me details yet. I suppose she thinks it will be more intriguing if I don't know anything."

"You are wearing the aubergine shirt..."

"It's what was clean -"

Mrs. Hudson rolled her eyes at him as she helped him into his coat. "Now, do try to be nice and don't -"

"Don't what?" He sighed as he focused on tying his scarf.

"Do that thing you do, the polite way to get to know someone is to simply ask."

Sherlock kissed her cheek and mumbled, "what's the fun in that? Oh, all right... I will do my best to behave."

"Good. Now, go on with you, dear, have a lovely time."

She watched him go down the steps and shook her head. "It will be a disaster."

 

"Sherlock! It's been ages!"

"Angelo, how are you?"

"Good, good, your usual table?"

"Please."

"On your own, or -"

"I am expecting someone." Sherlock admitted sheepishly as he sat down at the corner table.

"A date?"

"A date."

"Who is the lucky lad?"

"Don't know."

"Molly finally set you up? The lass told me..."

"What did she tell you?"

"Nothing, and if I'm not mistaken, which I never am, here comes your date. Candle. You need a candle... be right back."

John limped over to the table, and extended his hand. "John Watson. I'm assuming you are -"

"Your 7 o'clock. Yes." Sherlock rose and took John's hand. "Sherlock Holmes, please, sit down."


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm sorry, this was a mistake."

Sherlock nodded. "Please sit anyway, and have a glass of wine. Angelo went off to get a candle. He thinks he's a bit of a matchmaker. He and Molly..."

"Molly -"

"Yeah."

"Greg -"

"Puppy eyes."

"Works every single time. Sherlock Holmes. He's mentioned you a couple of times, over pints."

"I'm afraid to ask."

"All good, though he did say -"

"What?"

"You see things about people, know things -"

"Don't worry, I won't do it to you." 

"Why not?" John finally relaxed into his seat and nodded as the waiter fllled their glasses.

"I don't give most people a choice. But, for some reason, I wanted to see - I don't know, I promised my landlady I'd behave, and I was hoping you might give me a chance."

"Really? What does it matter what I think?"

Sherlock shrugged and took a sip of wine.

"Go ahead, do your worst." John straightened up to his full height and braced himself for whatever would follow.

"Do you mind if we eat first? Angelo will be hurt if you leave before he gets a chance to feed you. And to be honest, it's been a long time since I've had company, and I didn't know how much I've missed sharing a meal with someone - I know it sounds, I don't know -"

"It's been a while for me too, really. It's just -"

"Just?"

"I can tell I'm -" Sherlock bit his lip and waited, as he realised to his astonishment how much it mattered what the man across from him wanted to say. "out of your league, and I'm too used to my own company."

"Why don't we eat and see what happens?"

John shrugged and managed a lopsided smile. "Why not?"

"So what does Greg really say about me?"

John laughed and shook his head. " 'A bit of an arse, but not a bad guy once you get to know 'im.' "

"Glowing praise, indeed." Sherlock rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but laugh at John's dead on imitation of Greg's post-case voice. He looked over at John and his breath caught as John's dark eyes twinkled in the candlelight. Sherlock sighed and made a mental note to send Molly a dozen yellow roses tomorrow morning, no matter how the evening ended.


	4. Chapter 4

"So, how do you know Greg?" Sherlock asked as he played with the remains of, he wasn't even sure what he had been eating, he had been so intent on focusing on John, wondering that he was still there after an hour, perhaps there was something in Mrs. Hudson's advice.

"He was brought into the A & E when I was a resident, and I helped, well, save him, and we became mates, after."

"You mean, you're that 'John Watson'?" Sherlock shook his head.

"The 'one and only', never met another." John snorted, then took another sip of wine.

"So you weren't just in the military."

John shook his head. "I trained to be a surgeon at Bart's, got through my residency, and I was just, to put it plainly, bored."

"I know bored," Sherlock muttered. "So, you enlisted because you were bored?"

"And because I'd never left England, been to Scotland a few times, but had never been off this bloody island, and I thought I could do some good, and my da never thought I had it in me... damn, how much of this bottle have I had?"

Sherlock grinned, and drained the last bit in his glass. "I'd like to see you again."

John narrowed his eyes at him. "Why?"

"Why? Because you are the first person in a long time, that I find remotely, no, wrong word, sorry. Most people are easy to read. They wear their emotions and needs and wants so openly. You don't, and I find that fascinating -"

"So, I'm a test subject, then?"

"NO. No. Damn. People. I'm not good at this kind of thing, never have been -" Sherlock lowered his head and made to stand up.

"Stop. Please. I just don't think you know enough -"

Sherlock sat down again and closed his eyes. "Tremor in your left hand. You are obviously left handed, which I'm assuming means you can no longer continue your career as a surgeon. When you pulled out your phone earlier when you heard it buzz, you sighed, and turned it off, you were hoping for an interview, but they weren't interested. And it isn't the first rejection this week. You came here with the intention of telling me, thanks, but no, thanks, because you didn't want to be the one to get rejected again. And then there is the phone itself. A relative's phone. Gold, probably a woman's, she gave it to you because -"

"Because I made the mistake of going home went I got back, and Harry was leaving her wife, Clara, she's an idiot, Harry is, well, both of them - "

"Harry's an alcoholic."

"Yeah. She said I could stay there as long as I wanted, and she gave me this phone, it was an anniversary present, Harry had forgotten, but Clara hadn't. She always took Harry back, no matter what she did. I left, took the phone with me. I had nothing. No career, no one waiting for me at home. Didn't really have a home any more. Came back to London, thought maybe I could pick up hours somewhere, to get me out of my depressingly grey bedsit, I don't even think you can call it that. I've been home a few months, and nothing. I meet Greg for pints once a week, and I walk to the park, sometimes get coffee with my friend Mike... and yet, you think there's something fascinating about me. I think you're taking the piss. And in case you were wondering, the limp is real, unfortunately, managed to get myself shot twice. And yeah, I did want to be the one who did the rejecting tonight, and strangely enough, I would like to see you again, too."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. Now, what's for dessert?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the debriefings...

"So?"

"Hmmm?" Sherlock muttered something under his breath as he pulled out his phone and shook his head.

"Sherlock."

"Molly."

"Last night?"

"Last... night? Ohhhh.... you mean..."

"How was dinner?!" Molly nearly exploded from her chair.

"Fine."

"Fine?"

"Oh, you want details."

Molly rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips. "Sherlock Holmes -"

"We had dinner, we had wine, and dessert, and then I walked him home."

"That's it?"

Sherlock finally looked up at her, put his phone back into his pocket and sighed. "What, do you want to hear that once I saw what he calls a bedsit it took everything I had not to pack a bag for him and take him to Baker Street with me? That all I wanted to do all night was make him smile, and when he laughed, my heart stopped? He's the first person to catch me off guard, and I find him intriguing -"

"Intriguing?"

"Well, what? You and Greg have known him how long? Years, and do you really know him?"

"Know him? No, not really."

"Precisely." He pulled out his phone again and started tapping away.

"Sherlock?"

"Hmm?"

"And..."

"And, we've exchanged numbers and he's agreed to see me again."

"Sherlock -"

"I don't want to rush this, Molly, I want to be sure what I'm feeling isn't simply the heartburn I get whenever I eat too much of Angelo's red sauce. You remember what happened the last time -"

"He was an arse."

"So was I - I gave as good as I got, you know that - I really like him Molly, and I don't want to blow it."

 

"John?" 

"Sorry to bother you at work, it's nearly lunchtime and I was hoping you would have time to chat?"

"Sure, right. Give me a minute." He picked up his phone and mumbled something, then hung up. "Right. Ready."

John was quiet until they got past the doors of the station then he relaxed and muttered, "he's quite something, isn't he?"

"Sherlock? Yeah, he's not everyone's cuppa tea, but -"

"I nearly bolted."

"Why?"

"Why? Greg. Look at me, I'm an aging former surgeon with a limp and a tremor, and he belongs on a cover of a magazine; he's, well, beautiful, not sure what else you can call him, and he's brilliant. And smart enough - he got me to sit down and eat, and he didn't tell me my life story until right before dessert, and he could see more than he said, he was kind, which I didn't expect."

"No, kind is not the first thing that springs to mind when one thinks of him."

"But he was. And he walked me home, and I could tell, he wanted to rescue me from my awful room, but he just shook my hand and left."

"So..."

"So, we exchanged numbers and in a couple days, I'm making him dinner at his flat. He just doesn't know it yet."


	6. Chapter 6

Hey. - J

John? - S

Yeah. - J

What's wrong? - S

Just the usual. - J

Want me to come over? - S

No. - J

But you would, wouldn't you. - J

Yeah. - S

Why? - J

Because. - S

Not an answer. - J

I know. I just know what it's like. Not what I mean. I mean I know what it's like to wake up alone and hurting. - S

Assuming you didn't text me at 1:34 in the morning because you had a good dream, and couldn't wait to tell me. - S

No. Woke up to my hand spasming, and a righteous charley horse, and the first thing I wanted to do was talk to you. - J

Don't know why. - J

That's not true. I do know. - J

Tell me. - S

You don't pity me. - J

Why would I? - S

Most people do. Maybe they don't mean to. But they do. - J

You are different. - J

You let me talk. I haven't talked that much even before I went to Afghanistan. - J

Never had anyone listen like that before. - J

Like what? - S

Like I matter. - J

Sorry I bothered you. - J

Wait. John. - S

Yeah. - J

It's no bother. I wasn't asleep. I don't sleep. Much. - S

Why? - J

Long story. - S

How about I come over tomorrow night, or I guess, tonight, and make you dinner, and you can tell me. - J

Sherlock? - J

Yeah. I'd like that. 8ish? - S

See you then. - J

And John? - S

Yeah. - J

I'm here. Any time. - S

Ta. I mean, thank you. - J

 

Sherlock threw himself from the couch and walked to the window. "What the hell are you doing, once he knows... " He sighed as he watched the snow fall for a few minutes, then closed the drapes and for the first time in weeks, went to bed and promptly fell asleep, his phone in his hand, just in case.


	7. Chapter 7

"What's wrong?" Molly asked without looking up.

"Who said anything's wrong."

"Sherlock."

"He's going to make me dinner tonight."

"That's good, isn't it."

"Yeah, but I have to tell him, before I get too -"

"Attached."

Sherlock shrugged and slid down the wall until he hit the floor.

"You've been clean -"

"One hundred and sixty-three days. And it's still hard. Every day it's hard, Molly."

"I know. But you've done it, you're doing it."

"It's like walking around naked, fully clothed."

"Maybe that's what he sees."

"What?"

"Maybe he knows, already."

"Greg didn't -"

Molly looked up from her work for the first time. "Why would he?"

"Just thought, maybe he -"

"He wouldn't do that to you, it's not his to share. John's a doctor. A good one. He's been to war and back, probably not much he hasn't seen."

"I know, it's just -"

"Give him a chance, give yourself a chance."

"He texted me this morning."

"Yeah?"

"At 1:34."

"He needed someone and he reached out to you."

"Yeah. I just -"

"Is it too much?"

"No. That's just it. I want to be the person who answers the phone at 1:34 in the morning."

"You are. You did."

"But -"

"What time is dinner?"

"8 - oh damn. I gotta go." Sherlock got up from the floor, then strode over to Molly and kissed her cheek. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Have a nice dinner."

 

"Sorry, I'm late -"

John turned and grinned at him. "No worries, your landlady let me in, hope you don't mind."

Sherlock shook his head. "Smells good."

"Just a curry, wasn't sure what you normally eat when you eat." He put the top on the pot and lowered the heat, and once more turned to face Sherlock.

"Greg -"

John rolled his eyes. "I'm not here to diagnose you or judge you, just want to make you dinner, and no, Greg hasn't told me any of your deep, dark secrets. Shit. Sorry. Look. You can tell me, or not. I'm more curious about the things in the fridge, but I'm not sure I really want to know."

Sherlock laughed, and moved to where John was standing, then tentatively reached for John's hand and shivered as John threaded their fingers together.

"How long until dinner?"

"Long enough."

"God. John."

"It's okay, Sherlock, I'm not going anywhere."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the morning after...

"Did I -"

"No." Sherlock shook his head, as he watched John struggle to sit up.

"Did you sleep?"

Sherlock nodded, then shook his head again. "Not really."

"Sorry, I can't remember the procedure, it's been years since I've done this."

"I don't know that I've ever done this."

"What?"

"Wake up next to the person I went to bed with. Either he would be gone, or I would be. He wasn't much into the 'after' bits."

"He was an idiot."

"Yeah. Listen -"

John shook his head and kissed him softly. "No. I meant what I said last night. I'm not going anywhere, unless -"

"No, I mean, yes, I mean - last night was -"

"Brilliant."

"Yeah." Sherlock smiled and felt himself relax into the mattress, much as he had last night, when John had wrapped himself around him, holding on in that way that told him everything and nothing and all that lay in between. "Can we just stay here for a while longer?"

John rolled his eyes and pulled Sherlock into his arms. "I am not going anywhere. I promise." He held him as he felt him finally fall asleep, then he closed his eyes and was nearly asleep himself when he heard a sound at the front door. "Shhh. I'll be right back." He dressed hurriedly and regretfully left the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him.

 

"Can I help you?" A tall, well-dressed man leaning on an umbrella was glaring at the remains of last night's dinner, and he heard alarm bells go off, until he realised who this was. "You must be the brother."

"Even so. And you are Dr. John Watson, or do you prefer Captain Watson?"

"I am no longer either of those people, but you may call me Dr. Watson if you wish to address me in the future. I'm assuming you will call ahead the next time you wish to see your brother?"

"I see." Mycroft's left eyebrow raised slightly, then dropped; it was the only indication he was the tiniest bit amused.

"I don't think you do."

"Dr. Watson. I have never understood my brother's wish for attachment, it is quite beyond me honestly. I assume he has informed you of his past dalliance?"

"If he has it is none of your business." John pulled himself up to his full height and crossed his arms, though his shoulder twinged a bit.

"Ah, Sherlock has found himself a pitbull. Good. Just let my brother know I stopped by. I have to say I'm impressed that you have managed to get him to eat and sleep on the three occasions you have made contact with him. Good day, Doctor Watson. I will be in touch."

"Ring next time, and I'll make us tea." John muttered as he turned towards the bedroom.

"Sense of humour too. Interesting. I'll see myself out."

"You do that."

 

John returned to the bedroom and began to undress. "Slow down. I want to watch." 

"Do ya now?" He met Sherlock's bright green eyes, and felt his breath catch. "Bloody hell."

"John -"

"Yeah, lovely, I'll be right there."


	9. Chapter 9

"What's this?" Molly asked quietly as Sherlock pushed two dozen yellow roses into her hands.

"A thank you."

"Dinner went well, I'm guessing."

"Better than." Sherlock grinned. "He's packing up his things, and moving in today. He's already had his first run in with Mycroft."

"Really?" Molly snorted. "I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall..."

"Me too, though I got to hear the conversation, I think Myc was actually amused a bit by him - that hasn't happened in decades. I think the last time he was honestly amused, Thatcher was in power. But I don't think he's ever left the flat that quickly before..."

Molly pressed her nose into the roses and closed her eyes. "I don't know how you found these, they actually smell like roses... wait a minute, what happened to taking it slowly?"

"I wanted to, and then I saw him standing in my kitchen cooking, and -"

"Wait, he cooked in that kitchen?"

"Yeah."

"And no one died?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes at her. "No one died."

"You like him."

"Yeah, Molly, I do. I really do. And for some reason, he seems to enjoy my company."

"Oh, really..."

Sherlock could feel his face get hot, but shook it off, kissed her cheek and mumbled, "we'll have you and Greg over for dinner soon," then tried to escape with some bit of dignity intact.

"Dinner, with wine and talking?"

"Yes..." He leaned against the doorway and sighed. "I'm waiting."

"For?"

"For you to tell me you told me so."

"I'd never say that..."

"Uh-huh, right. I need to dash, told John I'd meet him at his place and help him move."

"Go!" She waved him off, and watched him twirl away, then breathed in the scent of the roses again, and whispered to herself with a grin. "Told you so..."

 

"Harry. I'm just telling you - no, and it's not any of your business - just tell Mum. Yeah? I don't know why I bothered." He turned off his phone and slipped it into his pocket as Sherlock knocked lightly on his door.

"John?"

"Hey, lovely."

"Anything wrong?"

"I just made the mistake of letting Harry know of my change of address, it's not as if she actually gives a damn where I am. Sorry."

Sherlock looked at the two duffel bags and one small box at John's feet and raised an eyebrow. "Anything else?"

"Nope, I never really gathered any moss, most of the box is old books, I thought about leaving them, but, I dunno."

"Are you sure you're ready?" Sherlock asked quietly. "It's not too soon?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing. I don't know if you really know what you're getting yourself into -"

"All I know is that when I saw you standing in my kitchen, cooking for me, my flat suddenly became home, just because you were in it. And I want more of that, more of you - "

"Yeah?" John grinned up at him. "Me too, I mean, I want all of that too."

Sherlock held John's face in his hands and kissed him softly. "Good. Then let's go home."


	10. Chapter 10

"What?"

John shook his head as he picked up Sherlock's hand and began kissing it lightly.

"Tell me?"

John pressed Sherlock's hand over his heart, and they both held their breath for a moment. "Do you understand?"

Sherlock whispered, "no. Not really, but yes, John. I do."

"It's not a question of - I don't even know how to explain it." John turned his head and nodded as Sherlock opened his mouth to speak but changed his mind, and moved just enough so he could brush John's lips with his own.

"It's snowing again."

"Is it? I hadn't noticed." John smiled at him, and kissed his fingers again. "You play violin."

"Uhmhmm."

"Will you play for me?"

"Soon."

"Promise?"

"Yeah, I promise."

 

Got a good one for you - GL

Busy. - S

Busy? - GL

It's your fault. - S

Yours and Molly's. - S

Right. Bring him along. - GL

 

Sherlock looked over at John and kissed his neck. 

"Hmmm?"

"Case, you've been invited."

"Really?"

"Uhmhmm." Sherlock grinned down at him and watched his eyes glitter up at him, just as they had that first night. "Johnnn..."

"See if he can give us an hour?"

 

Be there in an hour? - S

Forty-five minutes? - GL

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. Fine - S

Oh, I nearly forgot, you and Molly are invited for dinner tomorrow night. - S

Dinner? - GL

Yes. Dinner. Food, wine and talking. We'll be there soon, try to keep Anderson away from the corpse till we get there? - S

I'll do my best. - GL

 

"Shower?" Sherlock mumbled into John's shoulder.

"Hmmm. Yeah. Tired of me already?" John muttered.

"No, the sooner we get there, the sooner we can come back home and - "

"I love you." John whispered into Sherlock's sleep-mussed curls.

"Yeah, I - damn, I love you too." Sherlock groaned as he got out of bed and offered John his hand. "I didn't know -"

"Me either." John let Sherlock pull him into his arms and they stilled for a moment, as the only sound they could hear was the sound of them breathing together, as if they had become something new, something different.

"John?"

"Yeah, it's okay, I'm right here, lovely."

"Just want to be sure," Sherlock breathed into John's hair. "Just -"

"Yeah, me too, lovely. Me too."

Sherlock cleared his throat and kissed John's forehead. "Shower."

"Shower." John ruffled Sherlock's curls and pulled him into the bathroom, then closed the door behind them.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a bit of a case, and of course, some snarky Donovan...

"Freak's here." Donovan sneered as she spotted Sherlock, then stopped short as John stepped in front of him. "Who're you?"

"This is Dr. John Watson. John, Sergeant Sally Donovan."

"Oh, hell. No way - sorry, Doc, I've heard a lot about you - wait."

John crossed his arms and stared her down.

"You're with -"

"Yes..."

"How - why -?" 

"Greg called us here because there's a corpse?"

"Right. Boss? Yeah - I'm bringing 'em in." Donovan managed not to roll her eyes as she led them onto the crime scene.

"Hell." John hissed under his breath.

Sherlock laid a supportive hand on his back. "Breathe, John, we'll need to put on these jumpsuits, and gloves. Deep breath, sorry, I should've asked for more details -"

"No, I'm fine. Just haven't seen anything like this since -"

"John - if you need us to go, we'll go -"

"No. No." John stepped gingerly into the jumpsuit then pulled on the latex gloves and squatted at the feet of the victim. "Laid out."

"Hmm?" Greg turned and looked at John.

"Arms, hands placed just so - no defensive wounds - she let in her killer?"

"Yeah - that's what we figured."

Sherlock knelt across from John. "She was wearing a necklace, it was torn off - find the necklace. And she had been wearing a ring until recently, possibly recently divorced, or an engagement was broken off. Time of death determined yet?"

"The thinking at the moment is late last night, early this morning -"

"She lived alone?"

"Dunno yet."

"Find out - check the closets, shoes - bathroom, see if someone left in a hurry -" Sherlock stopped and watched John's face, and got to his feet. "Email me whatever photos you get - looks like a crime of passion - could still be pre-meditated, but more than likely it was a spur of the moment act." He snapped off his gloves and John blinked then slowly stood up and walked over to the bookcase.

"A lot of self-help books, relationship books, and travel guides, they look brand new, maybe she was planning a trip -" John's voice faded and Sherlock followed John's eyes. Framed photographs, among the few knick knacks. "They look happy, looked happy. She kept them..."

Sherlock cleared his throat. "We're going to get tea and then we'll be back at the flat."

Greg nodded and watched Sherlock help John out of the jumpsuit, nearly holding him up. He had known both men for years, but had never expected to ever see them in quite this way - Sherlock's gentleness and patience, and John's willingness to be helped, as if they could shut everyone and everything else out, it didn't matter they were on the edge of a crime scene. "Yeah, sure, I'll send you whatever we get, thanks, boys."

Sherlock nodded and piloted John towards the exit and into the afternoon light, the snow had finally stopped, and the winds had died down. John let out a long breath and shook his head. "I'm sorry. I'm no good to you if I distract you from your work."

"No. You kept looking, kept moving around the scene, talking it out - you looked for a reason, John. John. Look at me. I've been doing this long enough that I don't feel anything about what was in there - I look at it in terms of what, who, how - I have to stay separate from feeling anything about it - you saw it as the end of a life, you needed to know why it happened, and it mattered to you, even though you had never seen her before, you needed an answer." He laid his hand on John's face and whispered, "my conscience. My heart." He kissed John's nose, knowing it would bring a smile, then grabbed his hand. "Tea. We need tea."


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some angsty bits, because...

"How do you keep doing it?" John asked quietly as he added milk to his tea.

"I see the victim or victims as part of the puzzle, I try not to get attached to the details - the person." Sherlock leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. 

"You did once?"

"Hmm."

"One of my homeless network - they are mostly teenagers, young adults who have left home or were thrown out - she was - brilliant, her mind - and she was hard as nails, had to be - but she trusted me, she was really my first friend. There was a serial killer - I hadn't been called in, yet. Greg had his reasons. She was found outside my door - I found her, and I knew - I knew if they had just let me in on it - I could have saved her. I nearly broke Greg's nose, I - wasn't in good shape then, but he went against the rules, let me see everything - and I spent the next 48 hours doing nothing else - for her. This was right after Victor left me. Not a good time. After that case I learned to compartmentalize, I learned as far as casework went, caring about the victim just clutters things up, makes it harder to get the work done, and they -"

"Yeah - I know." John nodded. "There were times - when I knew I couldn't save everyone. I could patch most of them up and maybe half would make it, but some would bleed out before I could get to them - I always figured I'd mourn them later." He shrugged. "But I'm beginning to forget what they looked like before - I only see them when I dream -"

"After."

John nodded. He took a sip of tea and closed his eyes. Then opened them again to see Sherlock gazing at him.

"You did the best you could, John."

John shook his head.

"John. They didn't die because you failed to save them, they died because they were in a war zone."

John blinked up at him.

"Home? I can make tea at home, yeah?"

"Please?"

Sherlock nodded, threw some notes on the table, then stood up, and helped John to his feet, tightening his arm around him as the tears finally started flowing.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fluff... just because

The cab ride was silent, Sherlock kept his eyes straight ahead, keeping John in his peripheral vision, trying to give him privacy of a sort, but still holding tightly to his hand. He wondered who needed it more.

"Home." John muttered and squeezed his hand.

"Oh. Right." He handed over the fare and followed John out of the cab. Mrs. Hudson was either out or remarkably perceptive in her non-appearance as they pushed open the door, then made their way quietly upstairs. Sherlock pulled off his gloves and shoved them in his pocket, wondering how far to push, as John went into the kitchen and plugged in the kettle.

"Thank you."

"For?"

"I don't - you -" John turned around and watched as Sherlock hung up his coat then moved slowly towards the kitchen. "I trust you more than I've ever trusted anyone, and I'm trying to understand why. I'm not afraid that you are going to judge me, and not because you have your own, what - ghosts? I saw it that first night, at Angelo's that you wanted to know me. And I'm still trying to square that away. And I'm trying to accept the gifts you are offering so easily to me, without wondering - "

"What I get out of it?" Sherlock asked quietly.

John nodded.

"Peace. You are the first one who has ever been able to quiet my thoughts. Usually it's like I have machinery up here going 24/7 and you stop it. No, not stop it, it's as if you organize the machines and keep them in working order. I know it hasn't been long, since we've known each other, but - do you know what I mean, or am I babbling nonsense?"

John shook his head and unplugged the tea kettle. "Do you mind if we skip tea, and just go to bed."

"No. I don't mind at all."

John offered him an exhausted smile and began to remove his jacket. Sherlock moved closer and laid a hand on John's shoulder. "Let me, please?" John closed his eyes and bowed his head as Sherlock eased him gently out of the coat and dropped it on the back of a kitchen chair, then sighed, as he placed his still freezing hands on John's face. "Sorry, my hands are always cold." 

"I think I can help warm them up." John whispered as he covered Sherlock's long fingers with his own strong hands.

"Oh, can you now?"

"Hmmm."

John moved Sherlock's fingers to his lips and closed his eyes again. Sherlock moaned softly and felt John's smile under his fingers. "Please?" Sherlock whimpered.

"Yes, lovely."


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and to end this endlessly bollocksed up week on a high note... some angsty fluff....

"You have questions."

John watched Sherlock's face carefully and shook his head. "No."

Sherlock pushed up on an elbow and looked down into John's unreadable face. "You must."

"Your past isn't important to me. Who you loved before, who was here before me, doesn't matter. I know enough already."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at him, and waited.

"You thought no one else would be here with you, if he left. That you would be alone, because you deserved to be. I don't know who made you think that. That you deserved to be alone. But someone taught you that. And when he did leave, for whatever reason, you -" John reached up to trace Sherlock's bottom lip with an index finger. "You tried to destroy yourself, if he didn't want you, who would want you. You were with him a long time, even though you knew early on that he wasn't good for you, you talked yourself into staying, into letting him stay because you were afraid. I don't ever want you to be afraid, Sherlock. Of me, of what would happen if you don't want to be with me any more, I hope you never feel that way, but if it happens -"

"John." Sherlock's shattered voice rumbled, as he turned away and buried his face in his pillows. 

John reached out tentatively and touched his back. "I'm sorry, lovely. You deserve to be loved, and I want to be the one who loves you. I want to be the one you know you can count on - fuck. I didn't want to open up old stuff - I just haven't ever been with someone like this before, I mean there have been people, but no one who meant as much as you do already, and to be honest, it frightens me a bit, that I know you, that I can hurt you, that you care enough already that I have that power. I'm going to make some tea - I'm sorry, lovely."

Sherlock reached out a hand to stop him from leaving. "Don't. Please. I just - no one has ever - I couldn't say those things - I did enough to get out of rehab, I sang the song they wanted to hear, got home and stayed clean by sheer stubbornness, more than anything. And because of Molly and Greg - she found me - she forgave me a long time ago, but I can still see her face when I woke up. She knew why I did it, we never spoke of it after - it took Greg longer - after the case that I told you about, he doesn't really trust me though, I see it in his eyes, he expects to find me one day." Sherlock sat up and took John's hand. "I promise -"

"Don't promise me anything, Sherlock." John rasped out, in a hush. "Just - I don't know, be here, as long as it makes sense to you -"

"Logic?" Sherlock's eyes crinkled at him.

"Sure. Why not? Not that there is anything remotely logical about us."

Sherlock laughed until tears rolled down his face. "There really isn't, is there?"

John grinned at him and shook his head. "Not a bit. Now, I'm starving. I don't even know what time it is, and there isn't that much in the fridge, besides..."

"Thumbs."

"Thumbs. Okay, we are definitely going to Tesco after we get a shower." John kissed Sherlock's forehead and rolled out of bed.

"John."

"Yeah."

Sherlock gave him a look that told him everything he would ever need to know. He nodded and whispered, "yeah, I know. I know. Take your time, but don't take too long." He walked slowly to the bathroom and left the door slightly ajar. 

Sherlock laid back down and closed his eyes for a moment, then took a deep breath and threw himself out of bed and looked at himself in the mirror. "Damn. Yer a mess."

"Stop looking at yerself and get in here."

"Hold yer bloody horses!" Sherlock ruffled his curls and sighed, then rolled his eyes at himself and stomped into the bathroom, threw the curtain open and slid in behind John.

"There you are."

"Yeah, here I am," Sherlock mumbled as he wrapped his arms around John. "Only place I want to be."

"Good." John laughed, then moaned as Sherlock kissed his neck. "Damnnn...."


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since I rarely write Sherlock going to Tesco, and noadventureshere was worried they would starve...

Sherlock walked through the door and his jaw dropped, as he came to a dead stop.

John looked back at him and wondered if he was going to faint for a moment. "Please tell me you actually have been in a Tesco before."

"Uhm..."

"You're kidding."

"No, I think I may have gone as a child -"

"But you live so close..."

"Mrs. Hudson usually picks me up things..."

John rolled his eyes and sighed. "Come on, it will be fun."

 

"There are that many kinds of pickles?"

"Yes..."

"Oh my god..."

John sighed and followed after him, and briefly wondered just what he had got himself into.

"Cheese... why did no one tell me?" John couldn't help but laugh as Sherlock dumped an armful of cheese into the shopping trolley.

"Experiments..."

"And you will eat some."

Sherlock looked at him blankly and nodded. "Yeah. Course." And then he was off down the next aisle.

 

By the time they were finished, and back at home with a full fridge, and overflowing cupboards, they were both exhausted and starving. John collapsed onto the couch and switched on the telly.

"Take away?" Sherlock asked as he dropped next to him.

"Yeah."

 

As Sherlock pushed the last dumpling into John's mouth, he glanced at him shyly and whispered. "Did I tell how much I adore you today?"

John rolled his eyes as he chewed, then nodded and swallowed. "I think I have a vague memory of hearing something in the wee hours of the morning..."

Sherlock sighed and kissed him soundly. "I do, you know, adore you..."

"Yeah, I kinda got that." John smiled softly at him when when he caught his breath. "Do you know - how amazing you are, and how very lucky I am that I get to be here?" Sherlock turned away slightly and John caught his chin. "No. You are the most splendid, brilliant person I've ever met, lovely."

"Oh, look... a Bond marathon."

"You hate Bond movies..."

"Whatever gave you that idea?"


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a mixed bag... and Happy St. Patrick's Day to those who celebrate. <3

John opened his eyes and looked around him, then into Sherlock's 'trying not to be concerned' concerned face. They were both sitting on the floor of the bathroom, Sherlock was next to him, but not touching him.

"I freaked out."

"A bit." Sherlock nodded. "Do you remember what it was?"

John shook his head. "I don't usually."

Sherlock reached over and gently pulled John against his shoulder. "Tell me what you need."

"Anything?" John whispered.

"Of course."

"Bubble bath, and then, will you read to me, while I try to go back to sleep?"

"Easily done."

John closed his eyes and sighed against Sherlock, then kissed him and stood up carefully. "Damn - how long have we been sitting here?"

"A couple of hours."

"Sherlock -"

"John. I know it doesn't feel fine right now, but you have nothing to feel embarrassed about, and I promise you -"

"You can't -"

"Let me finish. I promise you, I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you, as long as you want to be here with me, your place is here, you need time, John. And I have all the time in the world." He stood up then took John into his arms and held him lightly. "You need time to heal and I'll be right here with you."

John pulled away just a bit and looked up into Sherlock's gentle face. "You mean it, don't you."

Sherlock nodded. "Bath."

 

Sherlock stepped into the bubbles first, then offered John his hand and helped him to settle against him. He closed his eyes as he felt John melt into him, and he chuckled after they sighed together. "I didn't think I'd ever have this, John."

"This?"

"Someone who understands me, and loves me anyway."

"Sherlock."

"No. You seem to love me because of what and who I am instead of in spite of what I am -"

John turned in his arms and lifted his chin so he could look into his eyes. "Sherlock, lovely, you - god - I haven't even known you a week yet, and I want to go out and at least trip all the people who ever made you feel less than you are."

"I -"

"No. People are sometimes afraid of the different and the beautiful, those who are so bright that they can't help but sparkle. You just needed -"

"I needed you..." Sherlock mumbled into John's chest. 

"You got me, lovely."

"We're -"

"A right mess, we are." John chuckled and held Sherlock tighter and sighed as he felt Sherlock laugh against him. He turned once more and let Sherlock wrap his arms around him and he closed his eyes. "Love you."

"Love you, too."

 

"So...?" Greg walked into the kitchen where John was checking on the progress of the shepherd's pie. John turned and looked at his friend and shrugged, "about ten more minutes."

Greg rolled his eyes at him and John laughed. "We're good."

"He just told us you got him to go into Tesco and shop with you? I didn't even think he knew what a Tesco was -"

John walked out of the kitchen and watched as Sherlock was telling Molly about their adventures at Tesco, then he looked up and met John's eyes and he gave him a bit of a smile and went on.

"He's got it bad."

"Hmm...?"

"I've never seen him this happy - even when he and Victor got along -"

"Victor -?"

Greg sighed. "They had met at Cambridge. Victor was rich, gorgeous, and smart as hell, and he fell hard for Sherlock, and Sherlock had never been in a relationship of any kind before - so you can imagine - they were together for five years, then Victor got tired of him and left him with a note and an expensive drug habit. Victor got him hooked, at uni - on him and drugs - and when he left -" Greg's voice faded then stopped.

"I know, he told me." 

Greg looked at him in surprise, then over at Sherlock, laughing with Molly. "I guess he is finally growing up -"

"He knows he let you down."

"It's not me -"

"Molly's forgiven him. You know that, you can see that, can't you?"

"I know - I still have nightmares John, when I don't get there in time. I nearly didn't, he was lucky that Molly went to check on him, he waited until both his brother and Mrs. Hudson were away, he left a note - he -"

"He's still here, Greg. He doesn't think you're ever going to really trust him again."

"I do - it's just -" Greg closed his eyes and took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "He's the kid brother I never had, it nearly killed me -"

"Tell him."

Greg shook his head. "Let's just have dinner, hmmm?"

"Right." John sniffed the air. "It's ready." He went back into the kitchen and pulled out the pie and took it over to the table. "Want to open the wine?"

Greg nodded. "And you got him to clean the kitchen?"

"Kinda sorta..."

"You mean you cleaned it."

"He stayed out of the way and didn't fuss when I binned all the unmentionables that were lurking in the freezer." He shook his head and grinned at Greg. "Rome wasn't built in a day... dinner, you two!"

Sherlock and Molly walked over to the table and sat down as Greg poured the wine. "So, dinner, wine and talking... do I qualify as a grown up yet?" Sherlock smirked at Greg as he took a sip of wine.

Greg glanced over at John who shrugged at him in return, and focused on serving himself from the dish in front of him. 

"I'm kidding, Greg. Eat!"

 

"I'm sorry," Greg mumbled as he and Sherlock were in the kitchen washing up.

"What for?"

"I should have let you off the hook a long time ago."

"Why? I haven't." He turned his attention to the plate he was holding.

"I haven't made it easier on you -"

"I didn't want you to. You made it possible for me to do the work I needed to do, you understood that, and against your better judgment, you let me. And that was more than I deserved."

Greg put the towel down and laid his hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "Stop. Look at me, please?"

Sherlock sighed and laid the plate back into the water, then turned and looked at his friend.

"I'm trying to apologise."

Sherlock shook his head. "Don't."

"It's just I always saw you as the kid brother I never had, and I failed you, I should have seen - no, I did see, and I didn't -"

"No one made me do what I did. Least of all, you. You tried to tell me so many times, and I knew - I did, and yet, I chose to stay with him - I didn't know, Greg." He nodded over at John sitting at the table with Molly. "I didn't know how it could be -" he shrugged and picked up the plate again.

"John's a good guy."

"Yeah, he's the best. The best thing to happen to me since I met you. So, thank you for him, too."

Greg looked up at him in confusion. "Wha -"

"If you and Molly hadn't found me when you did, I never would have met him - I never thanked you for saving me." He handed Greg the plate to dry and looked up at him shyly. "Thank you."

"Hell."

"What?" It was Sherlock's turn to look at Greg in confusion.

"Shopping and - sorry - it's just going to take time to get used to this new version. Damn, that sounds -"

"Like you've known me far too long." Sherlock snorted and went back to washing the dishes.

 

"You said something to him." Sherlock muttered into John's hair as John collapsed against him.

"Yep."

"I -"

John pushed himself up and looked into his eyes. "Yes, you do. You deserve to be forgiven, lovely, just because."

"No -"

"Yes, lovely, you do. Now, you just have to learn how to forgive yourself."

"John -"

"I know. Believe me, I know. Sleep, sweet."


End file.
